


Take Me Home

by CelticInTheAU



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Office Sex, PWP/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Well a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticInTheAU/pseuds/CelticInTheAU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I do believe you’re supposed to have some equipment to return, too – or did this lot mysteriously disappear in the same kind of fashion as last missions?”<br/>“You’ll be surprised to know that I do know the meaning of the word “return” on this occasion... And return to you, I did, Quartermaster.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LarksEve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarksEve/gifts).



> My first try at a 00Q fanfiction. For [LarksEve](http://archiveofourown.org/users/larkseve), who introduced me to Skyfall (I haven't seen a Bond movie since the days of Brosnan) and to this gorgeously perfect ship. <3

"007, you have to get yourself out of there!"

"Stop pointing out the obvious, Q!" Bond huffed as he ducked back around the corner, hands tightening on the rifle he was using to defend himself. Around him, the sounds of gunshots filled the air, while the smooth, dulcet tones of his Quartermaster filled his ears.

His eyes darted around, his mind calculating how best to take out his opponents so he could meet up with the evac. team.

"There are four on you," Q said, and Bond could hear the sound of his fingers tapping away at the keyboard. He could picture exactly how Q looked in that moment; eyes darting between screens filled with schematics, tracking signals - Bond's, the dead mark, the incoming evac. team - and his vitals - why the Quartermaster needed to know Bond's vitals was beyond him; he just shut up and accepted the combination sub-dermal tracker/vitals monitor that Q had medical place in him.

The downside to being the most well-known of the double-oh agents – and the most volatile and difficult to work with – meant that the current Quartermaster saw fit to make Bond his guinea pig for all new technologies. With the Walther, back on their first mission together, he hadn’t minded. Not many issues arose from a gun coded specifically to his palm print. Some of the inventions however… Bond and medical seemed to be allies, lately.

“007, there’s one sneaking up on you from the rear. Eliminate him and follow the corridor north through to the front of the building.”

“Copy that, Q.” Taking a deep breath to find his centre, Bond pulled his body away from the wall, turning swiftly as he raised his weapon, glancing briefly down the sight before pulling the trigger. He smirked as he saw the enemy go down, chuckling in his head as he heard Q whistle over the comms.

“You have got to teach me how to do that,” the Quartermaster chuckled, before relaying the next set of instructions to the agent, guiding him out of the building he had become mostly trapped in. It was no easy feat for the Quartermaster – Bond had a habit of wandering off in the direction he perceived to be safe, regardless of what he was being told.

Bond smirked to himself at the thought, knowing that it was only recently that he had started listening to his Quartermaster more thoroughly – if he wasn’t completely distracted by Q’s softly spoken words, of course.

“Evac. team should be straight ahead, 007. See you when you get back to headquarters.”

“Copy that, Q,” Bond spoke, reaching up to tap the end of the earpiece before meeting up with the transportation team. He climbed into the helicopter, grabbing a headset and tugging it on, before laying the rifle on the seat next to him, patting the left side of his rib cage to make sure his Walther was still holstered. Q did enjoy surprises, the agent had learned, and hopefully this one would reward him in the right way.

The heli took him back to the hotel, where he threw his belongings haphazardly into his cases, sending a quick message on his phone before exiting, now on his way to the airport; back to England.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

An unremarkable flight would have been made much better if they were allowed to use their phones more; but alas, Bond had to be patient. Luckily it was only a short flight – the double-oh was well known for his lack of patience, especially when something – or in this case, someone – was waiting for him back home.

As soon as the seatbelt light flashed off, he was out of his chair and reaching for his overhead luggage, pulling out his mobile and turning it back on. As he made his way to the exit, Bond flicked to his messages, reading the new message before hitting reply.

_Just landed. Will see you soon. J._

He made his way through the terminal, through passport control and to baggage claim, so very thankful that his cases were within the first few off the aircraft, before heading over to the long-term car park, climbing into his Aston.

He cursed rush-hour traffic around Heathrow, knowing it would take a fair while to make it back to headquarters. Bond would just have to be patient, as much as he wanted to hurry. Causing an accident in his haste would only be the start of his worries, if he wasn’t careful.

It didn’t take as long as he thought it would – in good traffic, it would normally take around an hour to make it from Heathrow into London; but even with the hustle and bustle today, there was only an extra fifteen minutes tacked onto his travels. All too soon he was pulling into the car park at Vauxhall Cross – HQ had thankfully been rebuilt, and was running more efficiently than ever.

Entering the winding corridors, Bond nodded to those he passed, trying to work out what was the best way to go about this. Should he debrief with M and Tanner, or visit Q-Branch first? Perhaps, for once, he should write up his report while things were still as fresh as ever in his mind. He laughed to himself at the last thought. _The day that happens will be the day the apocalypse arrives._

Thinking that M would be the safest option to go with, Bond made his way to the uppermost floors, nodding to both Eve and Tanner as he approached the thick double doors.

“M free?” he enquired, playing with the buttons on his suit jacket, eyes flicking between Tanner and Eve.

“Go on through, 007,” Eve grinned, and Bond did just that, not even noticing that both of the others stayed behind. It was a rule that the new M had instated that there was always to be one non-double-oh agent present in all double-oh agent debriefs. He had to hold back his surprise when he saw that the other chair in the room was already occupied – by Q. _Just as well I came here first._

Q offered him a quirk of a smile, pushing his glasses back up his nose, before turning his attention to Mallory, whose fingers were steepled in front of his face.

“Welcome back, 007,” M said as Bond sank into the free chair, flicking a curious look between the two occupants.

“Good to be back, M.”

The debrief didn’t take too long; the customary questions were answered, a promise to write a report was made – and, knowing Bond, would soon be broken.

With a nod to M, Bond departed the office, pausing outside the door and letting out a long breath. Eve laughed from her desk, glancing around the room quickly before beckoning Bond over. “You’re on orders to have at least a week off, and to get checked out by medical at some point within that holiday period.”

“I’m f-”

“You know you have to go, 007, regardless of how you subjectively feel,” Q said from behind Bond, causing the agent to close his eyes and curse in his mind as Eve smirked at the two. “I do believe you’re supposed to have some equipment to return, too – or did this lot mysteriously disappear in the same kind of fashion as last missions?”

Bod rolled his eyes, bidding Tanner and Eve goodbye, before leaving the top office with Q, leading them towards one of the lesser used corridors that would take them down to Q-Branch.

“You’ll be surprised to know,” Bond started, watching as the only other occupant of the corridor entered the rarely used lift. “That I do know the meaning of the word “return” on this occasion.”

Now that they were absolutely alone, Bond turned around, swiftly pinning Q against the closest wall, leaning in to brush his lips over the younger man’s. “And return to you, I did, Quartermaster.”

Stepping closer to Q – if it were even possible – Bond slid one hand into Q’s unruly locks, tugging at his head as he crashed their lips together almost painfully, both of their moans hidden within the other’s mouth.

“How I have missed you, 007,” Q purred when air became a necessity, hands grasping at the agent’s clothes, a silent plea to have him divested of his clothing, if it were appropriate to do so.

“Why is it that numbers sound so tempting when they fall from your lips?” Bond asked, pressing a soft kiss to Q’s jaw before stepping back, smoothing down the front of his suit and offering a hand to the other male.

Q quickly righted himself, before taking Bond’s hand, their fingers linking ever so loosely together as they continued on their way to Q-Branch.

“I’m a computer man, James. It’s my job to make numbers sound sexy.”

The blond smirked at Q’s words, bringing their laced fingers up and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his Quartermaster’s hand.

“You do it well.”

The rest of the walk was spent in relative silence, the two content with simply being able to hold each other’s hands after almost three weeks apart, save for short messages passed through their private secure server Q had built not long after they first got together.

The closer they got to Q’s domain, the more they had to resign themselves to the fact that they would have to let go of each other soon’ at least until the equipment checks were complete, and they could retreat to the privacy of Q’s office.

“Did you actually bring back your equipment, Bond?” Q asked as he pushed open the doors to his branch, hand dropping the agent’s quickly, before one of his minions caught them.

“Is it really that hard to believe?”

Q looked up at the blond, eyebrow quirked slightly, lips pursed as if to say something, but instead the young man shook his head. He led the agent over to the bench near the back of the branch, the bench meant solely for equipment exchanges, and tapped his fingers against the smooth surface. “Well, come on then.”

Bond shook his head, fighting the smile at the obvious impatience the youth was showing, before reaching under his suit jacket, withdrawing the holstered Walther and laying it on the bench between them. He then slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers closing around the two small items within. He placed the small distress radio – somewhat redundant, seeing as the sub-dermal tracker was working remarkably well – and the set of lock picks beside the firearm, before crossing his arms over his chest.

“See, not lying,” Bond quipped as he watched Q reach for the equipment, making sure everything was in working order. He couldn’t hold back the chuckle when the Quartermaster saw that yes, everything did indeed still work, and there was absolute minimal damage dealt to them, too.

Q picked up the items, motioning with his head for Bond to follow him into his office, closing the door as soon as the agent was safely inside.

The blond watched as Q deposited the equipment at the end of his desk, before starting to tap away at his laptop. A smirk appeared on his lips as he realised the Quartermaster was engaging “dark wall” protocols – don’t ask him what it meant, all he knew is that it shut down the security feeds within the office; the windows blacked out; and no one was able to enter or exit the office until Q typed in the relevant commands and passwords.

“You know, James, I honestly am surprised,” Q said, moving away from the laptop and pausing in front of the agent.

Bond looked at his Quartermaster, hands moving to slide around his waist as soon as he was close enough to do so. Bridging the distance, he let out a gentle groan as he pressed their lips together once more.

His hands slid under the material covering the brunet’s back, fingers splaying over warm skin as he maneuverered them forwards – backwards, for Q – until the back of the Quartermaster’s thighs were pressing against the edge of his desk.

“Going to follow through on your months-old promise?” Q gasped between rough kisses, his hands scrabbling for any kind of purchase he could get on the agent.

The blond laughed as he pulled away, Q’s bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he gave a gentle tug, laving his tongue over it to soothe the slight burn caused by his rough handling. “It will have been worth the wait.”

Bond moved both his hands to underneath Q’s cardigan and shirt, sliding them around to untuck his clothes from his trousers. In the back of his mind, he thought their first time together after so long apart should be slow and sensual; but the need was thrumming deep within, and judging by the smouldering looks Q kept sending him, the brunet was in agreement. Sensual could wait until they returned home, where hours could be spent exploring inches of skin, kissing new scars and burns, mapping out the old ones. Right now, they just needed to feel each other, in every sense of the word.

The lust-filled look that Bond shot Q was enough to get the younger male moving, stripping off his cardigan and shirt, his chest bare for the agent to rake his eyes over. The brunet shivered under the powerful gaze, but he wasn’t going to show the agent just how much of an effect a simple look had on him.

Bond’s mouth quirked slightly, his fingers working efficiently to divest himself of his suit jacket and shirt, draping them both over Q’s desk chair, before pulling the younger male back into his arms. “But there are many ways in which I promised I’d have you in this office, Q. The question is which one do you want to start with?”

A growl escaped the agent’s lips as his Quartermaster started biting and licking at his chest. His hands moved to bury in wavy hair, his hips stuttering forward as he felt his trousers getting steadily tighter.

“I don’t care,” Q muttered after he finished sucking a bright red mark over Bond’s right clavicle, directly over the scar that came from the mission leading to the blond’s “death”. “As long as you fuck me.”

The blond wouldn’t lie, his breath hitched at the way the words sounded dripping from his partner’s lips, like pure sin wrapped in such a proper package. He pulled the other away, reaching down to undo the belt around Q’s slim hips, before pushing the material away.

The brunet finished removing his own clothes while Bond stripped, too, but not after pulling another item from his pocket and placing it on the desk.

Bond was quick to turn around, bending him over the side of his desk so beautifully; he felt a sharp throb in his groin from the sight alone.

“Now I’m pretty certain I can do that,” he purred as he ran his hands along the gorgeous, curved spine, over flawless skin – although James would certainly love to change that – and further down, pulling perfectly sculpted cheeks apart.

Bond gasped at the sight that greeted him – nestled tightly within Q was the distinct shape of a plug, and the blond wondered just how long he’d been waiting with the toy in place.

“You little minx,” he breathed out, hands rubbing over the flesh of his arse before bringing one down against the warm skin, the sound echoing within the walls of the small office.

“I -- fuck! – I’ve had it in since you met with the evac. team,” Q whined, wriggling his arse slightly as if silently begging for more of Bond’s touch. “I was hoping things would take this kind of turn.”

Pressing his lips to the patch of skin just below the curls at the nape of Q’s neck, Bond used one hand to part the pert globes, while the other gripped the base of the plug, twisting it around. The throb of his cock steadily grew worse with each moan that fell from his Quartermaster’s lips, and he knew that he needed to get balls-deep in his lover, and as soon as possible.

“This won’t be gentle,” the agent warned, lips moving to a lightly freckled shoulder as he began to pull the hard rubber out of his partner.

“Good,” Q sighed, back arching with each slight shift of the blond’s body, “Because I don’t want gentle. Gentle is for home, when we – fuck!”

The Quartermaster’s words were cut off as Bond swiftly pulled the plug from him, and it dropped to the floor with a loud ‘thunk’ as the blond reached for the small bottle he placed on the desk only a few minutes ago.

He uncapped it and drizzled the clear liquid between the brunet’s cheeks and over his own bobbing length, not caring about any that spilled onto the carpet – Q was brilliant at coming up with lies to tell the cleaning crew about suspicious stains.

Lips hovering next to Q’s ear, he used one hand to spread the lube along his length, gripping the base as he pressed his tip to the brunet’s quivering entrance.

“I love you,” he growled, voice low and husky as he slowly pushed forward, his body shuddering as tight heat wrapped around the crown of his cock, squeezing him so tightly.

The plan was for Bond to pause for a short while, to give his partner chance to adjust to the sudden thrust of his cock. But the Quartermaster had other ideas, pushing back sharply as he took all of the blond in, fast and deep.

“Impatient little brat,” Bond huffed, hands flying to Q’s hips to hold him in place as he slowly withdrew, his own hips snapping fluidly forward and back into the welcoming heat.

“Told you I was ready,” came the panted reply, and Bond let out a soft laugh, which soon turned into a long, drawn out groan as the Quartermaster clenched his muscles tight around his length.

“If you keep that up, you little minx, this will be over all too quickly.”

Q whined at the words and tried to extract himself from beneath Bond, shaking his head. “James, I want to be able to see you… I don’t care how quick we are, just… please James.”

The blond gave a gentle nod, silently agreeing with his partner’s need to be face-to-face. Pulling out slowly, he gave Q the chance to turn around, before his hands returned to his hips and he lifted him onto the desk, one hand pressing gently on his chest, aiding the brunet to lean back.

Bond stepped between Q’s legs, wrapping them around his waist as he tugged the Quartermaster to the edge of the desk, wasting no time as he sank back into Q’s tightness.

“Touch yourself,” Bond husked out, waiting until the younger man had a firm grasp of his cock before leaning over him, taking his lips in a bruising kiss.

Q whined at the combination of sensations – his agent thrusting roughly into him, grazing that sweet spot over and over again; the lips ravaging his own, a mix of teeth and tongues, so thoroughly messy but so _damn_ good; and the touch of his own hand, pulling firmly at his erection – he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

Both men cried out as Bond hitched his Quartermaster’s legs over his shoulders, creating a deeper angle, the slight shift squeezing his cock even more.

“Fuck… James, p--fuck!--please!” Q was writhing, twitching as he begged the agent, the words dripping from his lips like honey.

Bond grinned against his partner’s lips, hips undulating as he continued thrusting hard, deep; catching Q in all the right places. “Let go, my love.”

He moved his lips to Q’s neck, biting and sucking as he listened to his partner’s cries getting higher and louder, so thankful that the office was soundproof – no one was allowed to hear _his_ Quartermaster’s cries of passion except for 007 himself.

Bond pulled his lips away as he heard Q’s breath stuttering, felt his arse fluttering around his length. Ice-blue eyes met glass-obscured green, and as the look passed between them, Q’s back arched off his desk as he came, crying out ‘James’ as he spilled over his hand and stomach, clenching tight around his partner.

It only took a few more thrusts before the blond was spilling deep into his lover, chants of his name – his real name, not some codename the agency had bestowed upon him – falling from his lips, his eyes never leaving Q’s.

“I love you,” Bond murmured, pressing his lips back to the brunet’s, feeling as he gave one final thrust, with the very last of his release spilling into Q.

“I love you, too,” Q smiled, returning the kiss and feeling a whimper escape his lips as the blond withdrew, suddenly feeling so very empty; incomplete, almost.

Bond smirked at the sight of his dishevelled Quartermaster laying before him, and temptation soon took over him; he ducked his head and lapped every trace of white from the perfect skin, delivering soft nips around his navel.

Q shivered at Bond’s touches, unable to believe that he was so lucky to have him in his life; to be able to call the double-oh agents, one of the most dangerous men in the world, all his.

“James,” the Quartermaster started, pushing himself away from the desk, one hand coming to push his glasses back up his nose. “Take me home.”


End file.
